


downpour

by teaoverkettle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Louis, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:17:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5770993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaoverkettle/pseuds/teaoverkettle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The way he gets to look at Louis when they’re alone – the way he gets to move and speak and </i>touch<i> – it’s like rain after years of drought. It’s unfiltered sunshine after months of polar night.</i></p>
<p>Or: Harry likes to look at Louis. Louis likes to let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	downpour

Harry thinks that trying to keep his eyes off Louis during promo is the most exhausting thing he’s ever had to do, an insistent ache that lingers beneath his skin as each hour slowly bleeds into the next. Today is worse than most, a veritable catalogue of missteps and blunders that build and build until he can hardly bear the pressure between his temples.

_Louis says something so whimsically_ Louis _and Harry has to wage war against the instinctive angling of his own body._

_Louis laughs and Harry has to redirect his own smile, automatic at the sound, to an assistant in the distance._

_Louis runs through poses with the photographer and Harry is somehow expected to re-magnetize his gaze from where it naturally catches on Louis’ frame._

It’s a unique kind of torture, and Harry is pretty sure he hates it more than anything he can put a name to.

“Just a couple more hours, yeah?” Louis says as he passes by in a quiet moment between shoots, body angled just enough that he doesn’t risk brushing his shoulder against Harry’s chest. If Harry had ever had any doubts that Louis hates it just as much as he does – and he sure as hell _hasn’t_ – the tension radiating from his entire body would have erased it immediately. “Can’t wait to get you alone.” He looks at Harry for just an instant as he speaks, voice pitched low and too soft to travel. Harry has to fight back the shiver of anticipation that wants to dance through his body, because the way he gets to look at Louis when they’re alone – the way he gets to move and speak and _touch_ – it’s like rain after years of drought. It’s unfiltered sunshine after months of polar night.

It’s…well, it’s _Louis_.

\---

The door of Louis’ hotel room slams shut behind them and it’s like a chain of explosives lighting up every nerve in Harry’s body. Louis’ hands dig into Harry’s shoulders and Harry desperately slides his own fingers into Louis’ hair, using his hips to back the smaller man up against the door. He can feel where Louis is already half hard against his thigh, and hell, Harry’s right there with him. 

“Holy fuck, if you don’t kiss me _right_ now,” is all Louis manages to say before Harry is leaning down to slam their mouths together. His tongue traces along Louis’ lower lip before pressing in and in and _in_ and _God_ , it’s like drowning in sugar and heat and _joy_. Louis gives back as good as he gets – he always does – and the firm pressure of his mouth, the wet sweep of his tongue, grounds Harry enough that he can pull back to trace the flush of Louis’ face with his eyes.

Harry’s been dying to see Louis like this all day – his hair tousled from Harry’s fingers, his face warm from Harry’s presence, his eyes glassy from Harry’s kiss. Louis takes a deep breath, and Harry can feel it where their bodies are pressed together. His hands knead into Harry’s shoulders for a moment, and Harry wishes he could see the flex of Louis’ fingers, but he’s too busy watching the sweep of his jaw and the curve of his collarbone.

“Like what you see?” Louis’ voice is still a little rough from the kiss, and his lips form the words carefully, as if it’s difficult to think past the press of their bodies together.

“Maybe,” Harry says, and then, because finally getting Louis alone after days like today never fails to strip him raw, “always.”

Louis pushes up on his tiptoes until he can catch Harry’s mouth against his own again, and the kiss is gentler this time, lips clinging and sliding. “I love feeling your eyes on me,” Louis murmurs into the kiss, and Harry feels his words as much as hears them.

“Yeah,” Harry somehow gets out, because Louis’s fingers are dipping beneath the collar of his shirt and that…well, that’s distracting in the best possible way. “So much, so much, _Louis_ ,” and Louis must know exactly what Harry means – _me too, I never want to stop looking at you_ – because the kiss turns frantic for just a few seconds before Louis is pushing against his chest, working his way out from between Harry and the door.

“You should watch me open myself up, then,” he throws over his shoulder, and Harry is suddenly so rock hard in his jeans, just from some kisses and Louis’ words, that Louis’ shirt is on the floor and his trousers are half off his gorgeous legs before Harry can even gather himself enough to turn and breathe out an answer. “Oh my _God_ , yes.”

Harry isn’t sure if he’s ever stripped his clothes off as fast as he does now, one button tearing away from his shirt and pinging against the wall as his fingers race to get everything _off_. Louis has backed his way up to the bed and sprawled himself out against the pillows, cock hard and bouncing against his stomach, and Harry doesn’t think that better motivation exists anywhere in the world.

Until, of course, Louis fishes the lube out of the nightstand and slicks up his fingers. Harry finishes kicking his pants off and scrambles onto the bed, kneeling between Louis’ spread thighs, hands bracing against Louis’ knees. His fingers dig slightly into the thin skin there, just hard enough to leave fleeting white marks when he slides his hand down Louis’ legs. He presses Louis’ thighs apart a little further to afford himself a better view, and his eyes move unerringly to where Louis’ fingers are circling against his hole.

He lets out a rush of breath when Louis lets his index finger dip just barely inside.

“How does it look?” Louis rasps above him, finger sliding slowly deeper.

“Amazing, Lou.” Harry licks his lips, taking a moment to steady his voice. “I can’t…I can’t even tell you.”

“Imagine how it’ll look when it’s your cock, huh?” Louis pulls his finger out until just the tip is left inside before carefully working it back in again, letting out a breathy moan as he does so. “And after, when you’ve made a mess of me.”

“Fuck,” Harry whispers. He’s so hard it aches and he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t get a hand on himself immediately, he might actually _die_.

Except that Louis is moving to add a second finger, and Harry doesn’t dare move. He can’t risk missing a second of this – can’t chance that the lessening of pressure on Louis’ thighs will allow his legs to shift and obscure the view even a tiny bit. Louis’ fingers are moving faster now, and Harry can hear the slick sound of the lube, can see the glisten of it against the rim of Louis’ hole. He hears himself choke out Louis’ name, the syllables catching against his dry throat.

“You should help me out,” Louis says, thighs shaking as he tries to angle his fingers, searching for his spot. “Please, Harry.”

Harry fumbles frantically for the lube, squeezes what is probably too much onto his fingers, but he doesn’t give a fuck, just wants to get any part of himself inside Louis as soon as possible. He presses his index finger up against Louis’ hole, slides it in alongside Louis’ two fingers, forcing them deeper in the process.

They get his prostate on the third thrust, and Louis squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as he can, legs trembling with the shock. “It looks good, doesn’t it,” he pants after they hit his spot a second time. “Both of us together, right?” 

“The best,” Harry says desperately. Out of the corner of his eye he can see that Louis is leaking precome, and God, there’s so much to look at – their fingers moving in and out of Louis’ body, the delicious flush of Louis’ cock, the clench of his abs as he tries to absorb the unrelenting pleasure, the pleading look on his face as their thrusting fingers never let up.

Louis makes a grab for Harry with his free hand, clenching it around Harry’s own unoccupied fingers. “Now, _now_ , please. How do you want me?”

Harry’s answer is automatic. “I want to see you,” he says, lifting his eyes to Louis’ face.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, his lips curling into a smile, and it’s possibly (absolutely) the most beautiful thing Harry has ever seen. “Want me on my stomach, then? You want to watch as your cock fucks me open?”

Harry’s about to say yes, because there is no universe in which that isn’t something that he wants, but…

“Think I’d rather see your face,” he says honestly.

Something in Louis’ eyes goes soft, and Harry can hear the breath catch in his throat before he whispers, “yeah, okay. That, please.”

Harry pulls his finger out of Louis and watches as Louis follows suit. He reaches for the lube and takes a moment to slick himself up, keeping his touch as light as he can because he wants this to last as long as possible. He’s so worked up already that he’ll be lucky if that’s _five seconds_.

When Harry finally lines up and starts to slowly push into Louis, the pressure on his cock devastatingly tight, he keeps his eyes trained on Louis’ face. He watches as Louis’ eyes flutter as he bottoms out, shifting beneath Harry with small noises of pleasure. He reaches one hand up to his own cock, and Harry glances down for a moment, storing the sight away for later before returning his eyes to Louis’ face.

They’re both too desperate for it to last long. When Louis comes, the combination of his body clenching down and the look on his face is more than enough for Harry to follow him over the edge.

When Harry gently pulls out, pressing feather-light kisses over Louis’ jawbone as he lowers himself to the mattress beside him. Louis turns, and his tired, lazy smile is relaxed and contented as he raises one hand to brush against Harry’s cheek.

It’s quite possibly Harry’s favourite sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
